The Baby Incident
by nancy fan
Summary: Sue hates babies. Will loves Christmas.


Dear Journal,

_Disaster. _Went to the mall to buy my usual appletini-flavored protein shake when I was confronted by something so offensive that it made me throw up that two hundred dollar Kobe steak I enjoyed for my lunch while Schue and the other minions at McKinley dined on gruel. (Note to self: sue Blue Bay Mall for the price of said steak.)

Now, Journal, was it my usual bugbear? The sight of a fat person super sizing it in McDonalds, grease dribbling down their multiple chins and ketchup smeared over their pudgy fingers.

_No_. This was worse. Much worse. People were happy, _smiling_. I even heard someone humming, at least they were until I landed a dropkick square on his jaw.

People may complain about the recession, moan that their home is being repossessed or that they haven't eaten meat in over a week but I don't know, Journal, call me strange but there is a certain beauty about misery. For months I've been spared the agony of witnessing happy smiles and children frolicking in the park with their pedigree puppies, mommy losing her job meaning that little Jack's puppy had to go live on the proverbial farm. At least that's what mommy told her little darling and it took one Sue Sylvester to set these poor misguided children straight. Abandoned on the highway, brought to the vet to be put down, drowned. It's best they know the truth.

What, you may ask, Journal. What has got this internationally ranked cheerleading coach so worked up that she couldn't bring herself to attend her annual swim with the great white sharks and piranhas in Seaworld?

The answer is a baby. And not the kind of baby that cries and poops in a diaper, Journal but one who causes houses to be turned into some kind of cheap over lit brothel and gives me poorly knit sweaters from my great aunt Mildred.

I'm talking about Christmas, Journal, a day that imbues me with almost as much venom as the time Jackie Marks in the first grade pasted glitter onto my poster of Davy Jones.

It's war, Journal and now all my energies are going to be diverted from taking down glee club and will be focused solely on my Abolish Christmas campaign instead.

**15th December 2010**

I might as well tell you, Journal that despite my best efforts, the Abolish Christmas campaign didn't work.

Failure doesn't become me, Journal. I feel like I have aged ten years and it's just not any fun looking like a thirty-one year old.

The supposed symbol of my anti-Christmas protest had been a Christmas tree, which had been cut down in Schuester's garden, covered with petrol and set alight until the branches were nothing more than charred offerings. The damage to Schue's garden had been a regrettable side effect but in times of war we must all make sacrifices. The tree was then bedecked with barbed wire and displayed proudly in the window for everyone to see.

_Ha!_ I had thought, envisioning the shocked looks on my elderly neighbors faces as they shuffled back from church or from where ever these decrepit people go to pass the time until they die.

I was imagining uproar, fury, old women brandishing canes and demanding that I take down my satanic tree.

But no, Journal. These wrinkly old women with the vile knitted sweaters actually liked it, or at least pretended to.

That's the problem with the world today, Journal, people are too accepting, too tolerant.

What happened to the good old days when being gay was something to be ashamed of, to hide and not bandied around town sipping an obnoxiously decorated cocktail and wearing expensive shoes? When being insane insured you were kept locked up within the confines of the state's finest asylum and not educating the youth of today in the manner of a certain Emma Pillsbury.

"Cute," one of my neighbors had commented. "My granddaughter is into all that vampire stuff. You know the way teens are today with their Twilight and their werewolves?" she had thrilled happily, humming Silent Night under her breath. "This would make a wonderful surprise for her when she visits for Christmas."

Journal, I don't mind telling you that it had taken all my willpower not to stab the woman on the spot with the hunting knife I had in my hand.

The only respite this hellish week has thrown at me had been the sight of some particularly disgusting looking children playing in the park.

Temperatures dipping into the low fifties, people had been griping miserably about the weather all week. Sue though hardly felt it. "Cold," she has scorned, braving the icy wind during Cheerio practice in her mink fur tracksuit as the Cheerios had shivered in thin uniforms. "You think this is cold? Try spending five months shoveling snow in a gulag wearing nothing but a fur hat. That's cold. Now get to work."

In the park, the children played happily, their clumsy hands making some pathetic attempt at building a snowman.

"Good job, Kids," Sue had commended them, the effort at maintaining a smile on her face a torture almost equivalent to a day spent on the Judas Cradle.

"You really think so?" a blonde girl had asked hopefully, an uncertain smile crossing her pudgy face. Fat children had always disturbed Sue.

They had drawn her to this. She had been left with no choice.

"No," Sue roared, utter disdain on her face. "This is the worst snowman, I've ever seen. A blind dog with no paws could make a better job at it,"

The children looked at her uncertainly as though they weren't sure if the scary lady in the red fur tracksuit was being serious.

"Yes, I'm being serious," Sue had drawled menacingly enjoying the expressions of happiness on their faces suddenly drop. It was like watching a puppy being kicked. Only better.

"And while I'm at it, there's no such thing as Santa Claus."

The look of utter horror on their faces was a triumph. Her work was done here.

Abolish Christmas campaign: 1

The season of Christmas: 0

It had been delicious, Journal, a small triumph in a week otherwise marred by failure.

Sighing miserably, Sue placed her pen momentarily on the desk to reflect on the travesty that had been the Abolish Christmas campaign.

_Wait what was that?_ Hearing a hushed sound emanate from outside the door, Sue sat up startled.

Sue knew it couldn't be the cat from next door. She had dealt with her last week and Buttons was now buried somewhere between the carrots and the green beans in Schuester's vegetable patch. William didn't know that although she was doing him a favor really. Schuester's vegetables would be all the more bountiful for Buttons decaying remains.

Standing up, Sue stalked towards the front door, grabbing her specially sharpened samurai sword in case it was those damn carol singers again.

In the spirit of the medieval method of warfare, they had been threatened with boiling water last time. Surely they wouldn't be so stupid as to risk the wrath of Sue Sylvester again.

But then, in Sue's experience, people who sang weren't the sharpest of tools, those scab eating, bottom feeders from glee club springing immediately to mind.

Pulling open the door, Sue recoiled in horror, the bundle wriggling on her doorstep a million times more disturbing than the sight of Beiste wearing a dress at prom the previous year.

_Am I really such a terrible person that I deserve this? Is this God's perverse way of punishing me for unpleasant business with that Manson man all those years ago?_

Lying on the door step, swathed in blankets and screaming miserably was a baby.

* * *

"Are you okay, Sue?" William Schuester demanded urgently, his face a bright red as he almost knocked down the door. Sweat beaded on his forehead in a disgusting display and Sue was tempted to demand he go immediately upstairs to shower but then remembered the abomination that was still in her living room. "

"I'm okay, William," Sue replied stoically, as though she had just donated both her kidneys and eyes to medical science. "Once you've fought in both world wars and have received the George Cross medal for bravery, there's few things in life that can faze you."

The expression on Schuester's face was vaguely confused.

"Well what's wrong then? When you called me, I thought there was a serial killer in your house or something,"

"If only, William," Sue sighed solemnly, shaking her head. "What's facing us in the living room poses more threat to society than Ted Bundy ever did and I dated him in my youth, you know? Come this way and I'll show you."

Pushing open the living room door with bated breath, Sue was relieved to see that at least the baby hadn't moved yet. She'd used her handcuffs to secure the infant to the chair and it was a comfort to know, that at least for now the baby hadn't managed to free himself from the restraints

Unless it was a trick, the thought occurred to Sue then and she reached for her trusty samurai sword to be on the safe side.

Will looked mildly confused.

"Sue, that's just a baby. Please tell me you didn't drag me away from rehearsals with glee club just to come and help you babysit,"

_Glee club rehearsals stalled_, Sue mused triumphantly, a satisfying warmth spreading through her stomach. _At least there was a silver lining to this whole baby debacle._

"And are those handcuffs? Sue, why would you handcuff a defenseless baby to a chair?" William demanded, his eyes widened in a demonstration of his abject horror.

"That's what they do, William," Sue sighed knowingly. "That's their game. Look all sweet and innocent and then they go for the jugular. Like seahorses or kittens."

"Sue you are being ridiculous."

Rushing forwards, Schue freed the baby from the leopard print restraints before holding it close and rocking it gently in his arms.

William had more balls than Sue had given him credit for.

"So, you see Sue you hold him like this," William explained patiently, demonstrating the correct way to hold the baby before offering the now sleeping infant to Sue. "It's easy. Nothing to worry about,"

_William Schuester. Her nemesis. His ability to inspire pure hatred in the simple act of raking his fingers through his coiffed hair astounding. But now, here he is foisted into the very unlikely role of hero and Sue is strangely turned on. _

_Damn you, baby,_ she cursed inwardly, poring over the possibility of providing the infant with a poisoned bottle. Having William unwittingly feed the poisoned milk to the infant would be an added bonus. No doubt the guilt of murdering the little serpent would be enough to make him resign his role of teacher and of director of Glee club," she surmised triumphantly, imbued with massive amounts of self satisfaction at the notion of the demise of glee club.

"Don't even consider putting that little bundle of satanic evil anyway near me," Sue growled, shuddering as the baby's eyes open lazily and the baby stared curiously at her.

"Sue, it's just a baby," Will reiterated, gesturing at the cooing noises the baby was gently making as if in answer. "He's not going to hurt you,"

"That's what the Trojans said about a certain wooden horse and look what happened. War, bloodshed, _death_. It's alright for you, Will. If I were living your pathetic life, I wouldn't be too frightened of death either but I'm an internationally ranked cheerleading coach with a weekly slot on the Dr. Phil show. I doubt Obama's administration would survive such a loss, never mind the state of Ohio."

"Has the baby a name?" William asked patiently, knowing better than to encourage her.

"I named him Damien," Sue replied blithely, visibly flinching as the baby extended a pudgy finger towards her. "I thought it was very apt."

"I didn't know you had it in you, Sue," Will smiled widely, holding little Damien up high in the air and playing airplane. "You see, you can be maternal."

"I think you misunderstand my intentions, William," Sue retorted with a snide grin. "I named him after that baby in The Omen."

Sighing in exasperation, Will held onto the baby, clutching it close to his chest and rubbing it's back gently. 'Where did this baby come from in the first place, anyway? I trust you didn't just snatch him from the nearest hospital."

"He was just left on my doorstep like a piece of anthrax laced mail," Sue spat out in disgust. "Discarded like a bag of foul smelling garbage. What am I supposed to do with it? I tried leaving little Damien on the doorstep to see if he would go back to where he came from but then he started crying and you know how I hate anything to interfere with my weekly viewing of Most Evil."

"I'll put in a call to the Child Protective Services," Will decided after a moments pause, the baby whimpering softly in his arms. "They'll know what to do and then I have to get back to the kids. Sectionals are on in two weeks and Rachel is already threatening to hold the entire Glee club to hostage until they master this ridiculous dance routine she's after choreographing. If I don't leave soon, God only knows what will meet me when I get back. Rachel could well be already dead."

"You are not leaving me alone with this monster, William," Sue instructed, her arms crossed authoritatively in front of her chest. "Rachel Berry will be fine and if she's not, well then it would hardly be the worst thing in the world, now would it? A few weeks without having to hear her insufferable voice sounds like heaven to me."

"Hello, William Schuester here," Will spoke in low, hushed tones. "This is a bit of delicate situation but I'm at a friend...eh colleague's house and it appears that a baby has been abandoned on the doorstep." The fact Will had amended his use of the f word satisfied Sue greatly. It was Sue's belief that the word friend shouldn't be in anyone's vocabulary and she had taken it upon herself personally to rip the fri- section out of every dictionary in Ohio. Sue had even considered taking the campaign nationwide but a pesky nomination to the candidacy for president had put a stop to that.

The baby screamed then, his cheeks reddening in anger and his tiny fists pumping into the air.

Reeling off Sue's address hastily, William slid his cell phone shut before he started comforting the baby, murmuring to him softly.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded in confusion, cupping a hand under the baby's head gently and holding his close. "He was fine a minute ago."

"The baby was staring at me. Probably casting some voodoo spell or whatnot," Sue replied, staring at the baby in utter hatred. "So I used the only defense I had."

The baby raucous cries soon turning to more gentle sobs, Will looked around, his mouth agape at the sight that met him.

Her Venus fly Trap cradled protectively in her hand, Sue had the open mouth of the plant angled towards the baby, it's trap poised to close on the infant's head.

"He must be hungry," William decided with growing desperation, the baby's cries getting progressively louder, "Can't you make him a bottle or something?"

What does he know about hunger, Sue mused darkly, wandering into the kitchen and rummaging through her cupboard. Sue had survived three harsh Russian winters in the gulag eating little more than a crust of bread a day and she'd never shed a single tear.

"Put away the rat poison, Sue," William called in warningly and grudgingly Sue replaced the box in the cupboard.

Sue hated it that he knew her so well.

* * *

"Hello," William greeted the social worker gratefully, the baby cradled against his chest as he elbowed the door shut. 'I'm William Schuester. I trust you are the social worker CPS sent out.

"Patty Chase," the woman introduced herself with a stern nod. Her dark hair cropped into a tight cut and her fingers and neck devoid of any jewelry, Patty Chase was the epitome of practicality.

"How is life on the street treating you?" Sue welcomed the woman coldly, a surgical mask placed strategically over her face. God only knew what diseases she could contract from the class of children that social worker would be in contact with. Scabies. Lice. Hepatitis D. Ebola. They were all possibilities and none of which Sue was willing to risk.

"Life on the street?" she demanded, eyeing Sue uncertainly. "I'm not sure I understand what you are talking about."

"Homelessness and poverty could be the only possible excuse for wearing that hideous sweater and I can only presume lice is the reason for that unnaturally short haircut."

"Sue," William cut in forcefully and not for the first time that night Sue found herself strangely turned on by the way Schue her former nemesis had taken control. "It's cold outside and I'm sure Ms. Chase would appreciate a cup of coffee." Will commanded, taking Sue by the arm and directing her towards the kitchen.

"And Sue," he hissed warningly in Sue's ear before returning to the living room. "A word of advice. Unless you want to clear out one of these rooms of trophies to make room for a cot, I would suggest you try to refrain from poisoning the social worker."

"So he was just left on the doorstep?" Ms. Chase demanded, rolling her eyes in disgust. "How could anyone do such a thing to a poor defenseless baby especially considering the temperatures outside. The little mite could have frozen to death?"

_Why didn't I think of that?_ Sue cursed herself inwardly.

"Defenseless, my ass," Sue retorted, elbowing her way into the living room and plonking two cups of coffee on the table. "You obviously haven't heard the thing scream. My initial reaction was to arrange an exorcism. Then I just wanted it to die."

Taking a nervous drink from her steaming cup, Ms. Chase replaced the cup on the table before cradling the baby in her arms.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality but we must be off now."

Picking the baby gently up and holding him close, Ms. Chase made her way hastily towards the front door.

"But where will the baby go?"

Will sounded like he actually cared and Sue suddenly wasn't so turned on anymore. Caring wasn't an attribute Sue found particularly attractive in a man. In fact, it downright disgusted her.

"Oh, this little one is a very lucky boy. Olivia Newton John takes one child into her home every year for Christmas and we have chosen this little baby to take that place. Ms. Newton John was apparently very touched by the movie Annie when she was a child," she added as an aside.

"Olivia Newton John?" Sue demanded, a dangerous note in her voice.

_How could this be? The woman who was her nemesis, who ripped her off, who dared make a fool of her. This could not happen._

"Well, yes," Ms. Chase replied uncertainly, clutching the baby a little closer to her chest

"The same Olivia Newton John who prostituted herself to a Scientologist in that soft porn movie."

"You mean Grease?"

Patty Chase sounded well and truly petrified by this stage.

"Exactly," Sue thundered, grabbing the baby out of the shocked woman's hands and dumping it immediately on Will's lap, dropping the baby as though he were doused in acid.

"This is a travesty of monumental proportions and I refuse to hand the care of an innocent child over to a woman who may have well founded a cult. This ithing/i was left on my doorstep and thus it is my property. You take this baby and you are inviting the wrath of my lawyer, Ms. G. Allred. I trust you have heard of her. Now get the hell out of here before I release my twin Siberian tiger cubs who may I add, haven't been fed in days."

Patty Chase didn't need asking twice. Emitting a high pitched squeal she made for the door, the sound of her tyres screeching over gravel the last of the social worker, Sue and William heard.

* * *

"You have tigers?"

Will didn't even know why he was asking the question but when it came to Sue, anything was possible.

"They double as guard tigers, Will. You should try them. Although, I doubt you would have the handling skills required. Better you get a goldfish or a hamster. I'm sure even from it's bowl, the goldfish would manage to do a better job than you at safeguarding your house than you would."

"Whatever, Sue," Will sighed, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. "I need to get back to the kids. See you at work in the morning."

"Go?" Sue demanded a little pale-faced. "You can't go. Who will mind little Damian while you are gone?"

Why, you of course, Sue," Will smiled sweetly, pulling on his coat and enjoying the rare glint of panic that crossed the formidable woman's face.

"Stay and I'll make you dinner," Sue offered desperately, pressing a button that released a barred metal shutter which slid noiselessly over the door. "I'll even use real meat as opposed to the dog food I usually throw into the pot, when I'm making you dinner."

"What choice do I have?" Will asked with a helpless shrug and Sue smiled smugly in answer. Will was right. There was no choice; Sue having already taken it upon herself to slash every one of his tyres.

Sue's revelations about her choice of ingredients still fresh in his mind, Will scraped the sauce from his meat suspiciously.

"Don't be such a baby, William," Sue snorted. "It's just polar bear meat. I've had it ordered especially from the North Pole."

"Isn't the polar bear on the WWF's list of endangered animals?"

"Oh, that hippy organization." Sue waved away his concerns dismissively. "William if they had their way, I wouldn't be eating panda or reindeer either, never mind my traditional Christmas roasted rhinoceros."

"You eat reindeer?"

There was accusation in his tone and Sue didn't like it. iHow dare Will judge her for enjoying the occasional sautéed reindeer when he persisted on sniffing around that pathetic Emma Pillsbury, despite the fact she was married and wore a disturbing amount of yellow./i

"What can I say, Will?" Sue shrugged lightly, pouring herself a glass of wine from a bottle of 1945 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild Jeroboam. (Expensed to Figgins of course. Excellence deserves to be rewarded.) "The antlers add a little something to my beef broth smoothies and I was thinking of serving the meat to the local kiddies. Cook up a storm, if you will and when the little brats have finished every last bite, I'll inform them gleefully that they'd just polished off old Rudolph there. That will put a dampener on their Christmas, I'd say. Possibly ruin it." Sue pondered delightedly, pushing the last of her polar bear meat around the plate. "That would be just the boost my Abolish Christmas Campaign needs."

"I'm not even going to ask," Will sighed despairingly, pushing what looked suspiciously like a claw around his plate.

Damien was mercifully asleep, Sue after taking the advice of her grandmother, who in her heyday managed to rear fourteen children with the helpful aid of a bottle of whiskey.

Pouring herself another glass of wine, Sue was about to take a sip when the sharp knock on the door broke the silence.

"Right on time," Sue noted approvingly, eyeing the clock on the wall.

"Dr. Phil?" Will sounded in surprise, recognizing the familiar figure of the man as he stamped the snow off his boots,

"It sure is," the balding man boomed genially, unwinding the scarf from around his neck. "We're doing a show on delinquent children and Sue just informed me that you picked up a runaway this morning. He sounds like he would be perfect for the show."

"But he's only a baby," Will spluttered in disbelief. "He can't even speak."

"All the better," Dr. Phil beamed benevolently, reaching into the cot and scooping Damien into his arms. "He'll add some cute factor. Keep my ratings up. Now we'd better be going. We're shooting first thing in the morning and Damien is scheduled for hair and make-up at four a.m."

"Am I the only one here who thinks this is absolutely insane?" Will demanded, shaking his head in frustration. "Hasn't the baby been through enough, what with being abandoned and everything and now you're just going to drag him half way across the country."

"See what I mean," Sue murmured to Dr. Phil knowingly.

"I certainly do, Sue," Dr. Phil agreed thoughtfully, his arms crossed at his chest. "It seems your colleague here is exhibiting the classic signs of separation anxiety disorder. I can help you, you know, Will. Get you on the show. See if we can't work through some of the issues you seem to be dealing with."

"I have no issues," Will retorted hotly, his cheeks blazoning red. "Other than the fact that I work with a freaking psychopath."

"Yes, I can see you have some anger issues too," Dr. Phil murmured encouragingly. "This is good, Will. Get the anger out. Allow yourself to experience what you're really feeling without restraint. This is a safe space."

Snorting in disbelief, Will reached for his keys, not even bothering to entertain their psychobabble mutterings with an answer.

A safe space? Was this Dr. Phil's twisted attempt at irony. With two tigers, Sue's penchant for poisoning guests and a vast array of collectible weapons in the mix, Will was certain Baghdad would be a safer place to spend the evening.

"He's firmly entrenched in the denial phase, Sue," Dr. Phil explained with a pensive expression on his face as Will stormed out the door. "I've seen it before. We'll get through to him, don't you worry. Now when did you say he was visiting New York?"

"The 5th of April," Sue replied, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose as she scanned her calendar. "He's attending a cage fighting event and then some bare knuckle boxing, as far as I know."

"That's more of that rage coming out there," Dr. Phil sighed sympathetically. "We'll perform an intervention the second his flight lands Le Guardia. He will be brought straight into the Dr. Phil House of Hatred and we can begin treating him immediately. William Schuester doesn't know how lucky he is to have a friend like you, Sue."

Waving off Dr. Phil and Damien, Sue picked up her calendar, a sly smile spreading across her face as she noted the date of Will's proposed intervention.

_The 5th of April,_ she chuckled inwardly, seeing the words 'show choir nationals' printed neatly above.

"What a terrible coincidence," she bemoaned, walking back into the kitchen to make herself a polar bear sandwich.


End file.
